


First Class Seat [riding comfortable]

by zanzibar



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, boom goes the dynamite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1417722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanzibar/pseuds/zanzibar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead it feels proprietary and unflinchingly sexy.  Because he is an evil, evil Minnesotan who scored the game-winning-goal in his first game back.  Just like that there’s nothing inside James that could even loosely be described as “settled.”</p><p>In which Paul Martin comes back, and James Neal has a burning need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Class Seat [riding comfortable]

**Author's Note:**

> Last night Paul Martin did [this](https://31.media.tumblr.com/931c1d5ccbb3bbe8472434c5b18042e2/tumblr_n3his4JFiI1s6vpv3o1_500.gif) and it was basically like BOOM - pregnant.
> 
> This also references things said in [this](http://video.penguins.nhl.com/videocenter/console?id=594746) video.

James resists kissing Paul on the ice during his goal celebration. And again when they’re lining up to congratulate Flower post-game.

He’s rewarded for his self-control when they leave the ice.

Paul catches him in the shadow of a doorway in the tunnel with a kiss that’s all adrenaline and sweaty foreheads and enough gear that it really shouldn’t be sexy except for how it totally is. 

Paulie’s all smiles and sweaty curls in his post-game interviews and just about as demonstratively happy as he ever is about anything. James sits in his stall, skates off and hands flexing back and forth against the ribbed material of his socks. He watches and tries to ignore the hum burning low in his belly. 

The media files out, quotes provided, questions answered and deadlines waiting. Paul bumps his knee against James’ as he walks toward his stall and James has to double-time his shower and getting dressed so as not to be the last guy out the door. 

The plane ride is a special kind of agony. It’s late and the lights are dimmed as soon as they taxi away. Most of the guys either opt for sleep or headphones and movies. It’s an hour and fifteen minutes from Winnipeg to Minneapolis, gate-to-gate, country-to-country.

The hum keeps right on burning.

James stretches his legs into the aisle somewhere over one of Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes. His shoulder pressed against Paulie’s in the seat next to him, hand resting proprietarily against the shifting muscles of Paulie’s thigh and dick half-heartedly pressed up against his zipper.

Paulie sneaks a glance at his lap and presses their lips together again. A fierce press of lips and tongues and a quick glance of teeth on his lower lip that ratchets the hum from low level burning to ready to ignite.

The runway at MSP is still lined with snow, the sounds of the plane waking up around them enough to stoke the fire back to humming.

Paul texts Leah when they land because even after 9 years she still worries. James hooks his chin on his shoulder and grins both at Paulie’s precise text-speak and Leah’s unintelligible middle of the night keysmash reply. His smile turns soft when Paulie’s response is simple:

_We’ll see you guys for lunch tomorrow. Love you._

The hum settles low in James’ belly.

James stands and stretches to pull he and Paul’s bags from the overhead compartment. They’re all still half-dressed in post-game clothes, ties, jackets and shoes almost uniformly abandoned for the plane, but the flight short enough that changing barely seems worth it. James’ button-down is loose around his shoulders, white tshirt pulling just slightly from the waistband of his pants as the muscles flex below it. 

Paulie slides his hand against the bare skin revealed there, barely a touch, the hair prickling, something that should probably be reassuring, simple. But instead it feels proprietary and unflinchingly sexy. Because he is an evil, evil Minnesotan who scored the game-winning-goal in his first game back. Just as suddenly there’s nothing inside James that could even loosely be described as “settled.”

Somewhere in the rows in front of them everyone is gathering belongings and James has been doing this for long enough to know that it’s going to be a couple of minutes before they start deplaning.

He sits down and buttons a couple of buttons on his shirt before bracing his hand on Paulie’s thigh and reaching down to grab one of his shoes. When he leans back up he slides his hand against the material of Paulie’s dress pants and runs his pinky lightly up the inseam of Paul’s pants. 

The resulting shiver is totally worthy of further exploration - but people are starting to get off the plane and James settles for shoving his feet in his shoes and pressing a quick kiss against Paul’s temple before standing and shrugging into his wool jacket.

“Want you tonight,” Paulie’s sly in a way that James can never master, leaning forward as they’re deplaning like it’s not a big deal. Whispering sexy, sweet nothings in his ear without getting busted by any of the guys.

James trips over his feet and almost knocks everyone in front of him on the plane down like a line of Penguin dominoes.

Paul wisely keeps his distance, sitting with Brooksie on the bus to the hotel and mostly avoiding James’ burning gaze from 2 rows back. James has waited this long, his self-control can hold out a little longer.

None of this is true when they’re finally in Paulie’s room, James’ key neglected in his coat pocket. Suits hung and teeth brushed, finally alone, finally horizontal, finally able to touch each other freely. 

"Want it hard," James mumbles into the pillow while Paulie slides his hands under his tshirt and smoothly up his sides. For all the times they've done this, all the open honestly in this relationship he’s never had before and, to be completely honest, all the weird things he feels like he's asked for. This is still the hardest - to admit that what he really wants is for Paulie just to pound him, to take all that finely tuned, wiry mass and just give it to him.

He mostly forgets about it while they make out. Content to finally have Paulie’s mouth all over him, sliding across the hinge of his jaw, beard prickling the tender skin of his neck and nipping at the soft skin behind his ear.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” the words spill out of his mouth mostly unchecked when Paulie slides his fingers against his prostate, breath tripping unevenly but his hands ever steady. “Ever since that stupid interview, freaking everybody asking you about me.”

“I really didn’t know if you saw me,” Paulie protests, slicking his fingers up even more because he’s going to give James what he wants and god knows James is going to feel it tomorrow, but he’s not going to suffer from lack of preparation.

“I always see you,” James pushes back against three fingers, breath catching on the heady pleasure of it all, “my Paulie radar is like NSA levels of accuracy.”

Paulie smirks at that and leans down to mouth gently at the crown of his dick while he scissors his fingers slowly.

“You didn’t have to look at me when you were talking about the guys really giving it to you.” James moans and flips onto his back while Paulie skins on a condom.

“I couldn’t not,” Paulie pushes in slowly, his freaky d-man strength winning out against James’ heels pressed against his back, his desire for fast and hard to appease the hum once and for all.

“I just,” James rolls his head toward the wall for a minute before looking up at Paulie braced over him, “I want everything,” it’s worth it to see Paulie’s eyes darken at that, to remember his smile earlier on the ice, and the hum low in his belly.

“Be patient,” Paulie leans over and fits their lips together, “you’ll get what you want, but I want this too.”

This turns out to be slow easy kisses paired with a dirty slow grind that doesn’t fulfill James’ desire for being pounded into the mattress whatsoever, but does fulfill his desire a little bit and it cracks his heart open just a little wider. It’s been a long year - Paulie in and out of the lineup enough that his empty stall feels a little too much like a terrible habit James doesn’t want to have.

Paulie bends to press their lips together again and his hand slips a little on the headboard. He slams into James obviously harder than he expected, and exactly what James wants hissing his pleasure and pressing his head back against the pillows.

“Like that,” Paulie teases, pressing distractingly soft kisses against his hairline like he hasn’t been shameless grinding on James’ prostate for the past 20 minutes.

“God please,” James presses his heels into the mattress and arches up. “The guys aren’t here to chirp you about not going hard, but lean into it Paulie.”

“God our relationship is never not going to be shooting metaphors is it?” Paul grins and slams into him again.

They come together. Because James has NSA level Paulie-radar but Paulie knows exactly how much James can handle and exactly how to make him come apart.

“Too much,” when they’re cleaned up and tucked together under the covers Paulie presses a kiss against the back of his neck. He sighs contentedly when James pushes back against the cradle of his hips, still so sensitive but unable to keep away from the closeness.

“It was perfect,” James whispers exhausted and wrung out and so, so happy, “just like your goal and having you back on the ice and ending the night right here.”

“Tell me that again when you’re skating tomorrow,” Paulie’s voice is dry and James knows him well enough to hear the smile.

“Mmmm,” James turns to steal a kiss before tucking their bodies more closely together. “Dan’s going to cancel practice, so it won’t matter.”

He falls asleep between one breath and the next, Paulie’s smile pressed against his shoulder, the low hum of the hotel HVAC system and Paulie’s even breath as familiar as the ice under his skates.


End file.
